Destined to stay awake too long to contemplate where I've gone wrong
I try to formulate a song to make some good out of bad
The words I write, they seem contrived, ashamed to share my cheesy lines
I scrunch the scrap, a waste of time, a waste of thoughts in my head
The sets of songs that I forgot were all about my writers block
And all that's left to express is I've not got much to express

I waste the day, I waste the evening, combing through words try to find meaning
It's just self-involved struggles with feelings, where do I go from that?
Each line written is lazy and boisterous, hard not to see my endeavors as pointless
Approach a project frustrated and joyless, get surprised when it's bad
But there is a truth that I've been evading, I mostly make things so you think I'm creative
I'm so shallow you see, that I have to build up a sense of identity